Chris had always been your biggest supporter. No matter what, he was there at every volleyball game, cheering you on like it was the championship. He knew how hard you were on yourself, how you always felt like you weren’t good enough. And tonight, he could see it.

Your mom wouldn’t drive you, so Chris had to. The whole car ride, you fidgeted—twisting your earrings, playing with your necklace, pulling at your spandex, anything to keep your nerves in check. And on top of that? You were so nervous you couldn’t eat. There was nothing in your system, and you already felt lightheaded.

And to make things even worse—one of your teammates was out, meaning you had to fill their position. A position you never played.

“You good?” Chris asked, his voice softer than usual as he pulled into the parking lot.

You just nodded, inhaling deeply. He didn’t believe you.

Your coach really wanted that medal. You had no clue why, but he did, and that only made the pressure worse.

The game started, and you pushed through the dizziness, focusing on keeping the ball in play. Then it happened—your teammate shanked a ball, sending it flying. Instinct took over, and you sprinted after it, colliding hard into Chris as you got the ball up.

The gym gasped as you hit the floor. Pain shot through your ankle, and for a second, everything felt off.

Chris was instantly crouching beside you. “Hey, hey—are you okay?” His voice was low, urgent.

You clenched your jaw, nodded, and forced yourself back up. You had to keep playing.

But as you moved to the front row, the world spun. You barely registered the set before jumping to hit.

The moment you landed, your ankle gave out. And the second your knees hit the floor, your head swam with an unbearable lightness.

Chris saw it happen before anyone else.

And he ran.